


Rough Saturday Night

by Leyenn



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Secret Relationship, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:36:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9702206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn
Summary: Is there any other kind, with Gibbs?Untouchable, in the middle of the night.





	

Abby's at her desk in the ballistics room when he appears in her lab, tests scrolling by on both monitors to the heavy but low-volume beat of death metal. The music hits him as the door slides open: McGee's snores cut off as it slides shut.

Abby looks up, flashes him a smile. "Hey, Gibbs. Where are Tony and Ziva?"

"Upstairs. Asleep." He lifts the cup on her desk and shakes it lightly. There's a faint shake of ice left, but that's all. "You're not."

She smiles, spinning the chair idly from side to side as she clicks her mouse. "Nope." 

He smiles back at her attitude, still perky even at zero-five-hundred with a long week and no sleep behind her. He takes a seat on the desk beside her and lifts her other hand from the keyboard, brushes a kiss across her fingers. "That's my girl."

Abby flashes him a sultry little smirk from beneath her bangs. He folds her hand between both of his, lets them settle in his lap. Abby blinks slowly up at him, mischief in her dark eyes.

"McGee's right outside, you know." 

He winces wryly. "Oh, I noticed."

She smiles fondly. "You think that's bad, you should hear him when he's lying down."

"I'll pass."

"And I thought you were a risk taker, Gibbs," she says, smirk settling into a flirty smile.

He arches an eyebrow, teasing. "That so?" 

"Uh-huh." She rubs her thumb slowly against his thigh, just once, like a question and a dare. As if he needs to be dared, when he's the one who came looking for her in the middle of the night when everyone else is snoring quietly on a desk somewhere.

He untangles one hand from hers and signs a single word. She raises her eyebrows, a sparkle in her eyes, and lets the mouse halt its path across the screen to sign a reply.

_Really?_

The inflection in her expression is definitely a question. He lets the answer show in his eyes and crooks a finger at her, a slow little beckoning gesture. 

Abby smiles _that_ smile then, soft and private and open - the smile that's just his, for dark and secret moments like this - and slides to her feet, quiet against the tile in just those black knee-high socks with her shoes kicked off under the desk. He puts his hands on her hips and tugs her close, up against the desk between his legs: that slight change in his height is always just the right measure to bring them level, and Abby takes full advantage to slide her arms around his neck and lean in, letting him take her weight and her mouth in very swift succession.

The way she kisses him is playful, at least until he tries to take a breath: then her fingers tighten in his hair and he grins against her lips, amused at the effort it takes to break his mouth from hers.

"Feeling a little on edge, are we, Abbs?"

She rolls her eyes at him. “You know I can’t do anything else until the print finishes running, Gibbs.”

He brushes another kiss against her cheek; nuzzles along the line of her jaw. “Yeah, I know.”

She tips her head to encourage him, but her voice is still thoughtful. “Maybe if I could-“

He puts a finger on her lips, murmurs it in her ear. “Nope.”

She makes a soft, frustrated noise, only just slightly distracted by the way his hands are roaming. “But if-“

He pulls back to look her in the eyes. “Too much caffeine isn't good for you, Abbs.”

“Gibbs! Bite your tongue.”

He smirks. “And let you miss out?”

She gives him a look that says _smart ass_ even without the accompanying sign, but some of the frustration seems to drain out of her. This time the taste of her mouth is sweet, slow, a quiet build of heat instead of a demanding bite. He strokes one hand up to curl around the back of her neck, the other down her back until his palm is resting over the curve of her ass, his fingertips paused on bare skin just at the edge of her skirt. 

Abby twitches at the touch, smiles into his mouth. He grins, breaks off just to murmur, "You were right," against her lips before taking another taste. 

She pulls back a bare inch to look him in the eyes. "Oh?"

He flashes a grin and leans forward, "I like taking risks," murmured in the second before he captures her mouth and slides his hand under her skirt.

Lace and cotton meets his fingers; he doesn't have to see it to know it's black, or to trace out the image of how they look in his mind as easily as he traces the lacy edge with his fingertips before nudging it aside. He works his fingers down and presses his palm against her; her own hands dig into his scalp and she slides her feet wider, socks gliding on the smooth floor, pushing her hips into his hand. He gives her a slow smile and rubs his whole hand against her, firm and deliberate, tugging gently at the short, tight curls she keeps neatly trimmed; holding her gaze steady and silent and watching the way her cheeks flush, her eyes darken, the way she looks in the exact second he slides his fingers inside her.

Her breath stutters for a moment, then catches entirely at the end of his first long stroke up to find her clit. She’s wet enough that one stroke is all he needs: he starts slow, hard circles, just the right side of rough where he knows she likes it and she rewards him with a moan loud enough that he brushes a kiss against her lips in place of the fingers he can't currently spare. 

"Shh."

“ _Gibbs_ …”

“Bite your lip,” he murmurs in her ear, and then almost groans himself when she does exactly that, eyes fluttering half-closed and her throat working to swallow the sounds she obviously wants to make - to make because of him, just because of his hand on her -

"Mmmm…" She's already biting hard enough to bruise, but he knows this, knows how rough and sure and fast and he can feel how her clit is hard under his fingers - just a touch lower and harder and it's enough to break her into a rush of, "Mm - oh oh _fuck_ , Gibbs, please-"

He leans in so close that his lips brush the shell of her ear. "If you wake McGee, you know he's gonna come charging right in here-"

Abby folds against him, buries a gasped cry in the curve of his neck and comes with a full-body shudder, clenching her thighs around his hand, so hard she grabs for the desk to hold herself up and he has to drop his other hand to her waist to keep her steady on her feet.

For a whole minute there's only the scent of her, the low throbbing beat of the music and the heat of Abby breathing against his neck, the slower rock of her hips against his hand as she rides the come down with soft, breathy sounds. For that minute he just presses his lips against her hair and lets her, holds her up and breathes her in. 

And then something beeps on the computer behind her, and the rest of the world comes back into view.

She trembles when he finally moves, twitches when he twists her underwear around his fingers to wipe them clean and the lace tightens against her skin. He spreads his free hand across her back, steadying her as she catches her breath, even though he can't help but wish to just steal this time all over again.

But the sun's coming up and they have work to do, so he settles for pressing a kiss against her cheek and smoothing her skirt back down. "Always had you figured for a risk taker, too," and grins when she laughs into his neck. He can hear the wicked, pleased little smile in her voice without even looking.

"That's because risk is _fun_ , Gibbs."

**


End file.
